Because We've Always
by WithRhymeNoReason
Summary: Because they don't need words to reach out to each other, to smooth wrinkled brows or quiet raging thoughts or healed battered bodies. They just need each other. A series of SB/RL drabbles and one-shots. Updated every Saturday. SLASH.
1. Because We've Always Been Marauders

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Oh, but they are fun to play with.**

* * *

We're shuffling down one of the dark corridors on the seventh floor, trying to keep James's invisibility cloak covering bodies that had outgrown it years ago.

As it was, we were hunched over, shoulder to shoulder, legs brushing and breaths unnaturally loud in the midnight silence.

We were coming back from setting up a prank, attempting to slip back into the Gryffindor common room without running across Filch or the yellow-eyed Mrs. Norris.

The light of the moon was dim, and I was reminded of the fact that the full moon had passed just days ago when my right shoulder dragged against the rough stone of the castle wall, aggravating a cut.

When I hissed at the sting, Sirius stopped to look at me, as best he could in the limited space under the cloak.

He placed a hand gingerly on my other shoulder. "You okay?"

I nodded a gruff, "Yeah," in his direction and ignored the thrill his soft touch sent through me.

Sirius eyed me dubiously, and I rolled my eyes at him and started making my way down the shadowy corridor.

His hand left my arm, and I was conscious of its cool absence.

I couldn't remember when I started to notice it. When I started to realize that I wanted his hand on my arm like that, warm and comforting and just for me. When I suddenly understood the breathlessness of the silly girls who swooned when he ran a hand through his hair or sent a wink in their direction. When the dreams started. When the staring started.

I push the thoughts away with practiced ease, because I become too aware of the ache in my chest when I linger on them.

Because we've always been marauders.

Because we'll always be marauders, and nothing more.


	2. Because We've Always Needed Each Other

**A/N: Note that these drabbles are not in any kind of order, and can take place at any point in Sirius and Remus's relationship...or lack thereof. **

* * *

It's the night after the full moon, and Sirius's body casts long shadows on the floor of the dormitory as he pulls open the curtains of Remus's bed. It's December, and he shivers as the chill of the floor travels up his body. Slipping into the bed as quietly and softly as possible, Sirius takes a moment to appreciate the warmth of the covers before turning to the boy next to him.

Pushing tawny locks of hair out of the face of the werewolf, he's hit with a rush of affection as he studies the pale profile.

Remus is as battered and bruised as he is after any full moon, but this time insisted on coming straight back to the dormitories instead of staying the perfunctory two night in the hospital wing.

Remus could be a stubborn bastard sometimes, and there was no arguing with him when he was.

He drapes an arm over Remus's waist, pulling the boy closer as he settles himself to fit against the planes of his body. Nuzzling his head into the other boy's neck in a very canine manner, Sirius breaths in the comforting scent of parchment, dry leaves, and _Remus_.

They both need this, after the transformation. The closeness, the comfort.

Sirius, cataloguing all of Remus's injuries and running cool, soothing fingers over raw wounds. Convincing himself that his werewolf is all right, if not whole.

Remus, waking up to find himself sheltered in Sirius's strong arms, his warm breath at his neck and the steady beat of their hearts in synch. For those few minutes they have alone, wrapped up in each other, Remus always manages to forget just how terrible the night before was.

Because they don't need words to reach out to each other, to smooth wrinkled brows or quiet raging thoughts or heal battered bodies.

They just need each other.


	3. Because We've Always Been Affectionate

**Reviews are much appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think! Let me know if there are any scenes you want to see from these two.**

* * *

Peter leaned his head on his hand, thoughtfully munching on his third muffin of the morning. Taking a deep drag from his glass of milk, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took another look at his friends in front of him.

Remus was buttering a piece of toast as Sirius told him a story, smirking when animated hands flew in his face and around the table, threatening to overturn goblets of pumpkin juice and upset stacks of waffles.

And then that thing happened that Peter had begun watching for.

Still in the midst of his tale, Sirius leaned just that much closer to Remus, placing a hand on his shoulder. His fingers were splayed wide, edging towards the nape of his neck and the hair curling there. And Remus's smirk relaxed into a soft smile as he turned to Sirius, eyes widening and brows rising at something he said.

Even from the opposite side of the table Peter could tell that they must have been pressed thigh-to-thigh, and as Padfoot abandoned his story in favor of fussing over his hair, Remus reached up to smooth back a strand.

At the gesture, Sirius returned Remus's smile with one of his own. He clapped the werewolf on the back as he returned to his forgotten breakfast.

His hand stayed there for the rest of their meal, and Peter wondered idly if this was how Sirius had achieved his ambidexterity.

It was a subtle shift in their relationship that had occurred in all those spaces when Peter wasn't watching them.

Their touches were no longer colored by pink blushes creeping up cheeks or burning ears, no longer hesitant or questioning. They'd always been affectionate, and he and James had teased them mercilessly for it, but this was different.

This was a new confidence, a new familiarity with each other that startled Peter. When had his friends become this close?

A hand on the knee when Snape's taunting hit too close to home in Potions.

Lounging around the common room after dinner, head-ruffles lingered and became gently-moving fingers.

Late at night when the war became too much, and Peter was awake to see.

See the grasping hugs; hear the shuddering breaths and the reassuring murmurs whispered into the dark.

Watching them, the gentle smiles and genuine laughter that always seemed to be so hard to pull from Remus, Peter decided that it didn't matter what they'd always been.

Because they would always be.

They would always be Sirius and Remus.

Moony and Padfoot.

Together.


	4. Because We've Always Been Reckless

"You—you did _what_?"

Remus is staring at them, mouth agape, his normally pale face ashen in the rising moonlight that's pouring through the window of their dormitory.

Sirius takes the first step forward, hand outstretched as if to temper a wild animal.

"We're Animagi, Remus," he says, glancing back at James and Peter. "We became Animagi, for you. You don't have to go through it alone anymore."

Remus is still staring at them, fists trembling at his sides.

"You shouldn't have _done_ that," he rasps.

Sirius takes another step forward.

"It's already done."

He's within arm's length of him now, and he raises a hand to rest on Remus's shoulder, which is shuddering faintly beneath his touch.

Remus looks down at the hand, then up to Sirius's face. And as Sirius stares back into those golden eyes he knows so well, he sees something break.

Something Remus has been carrying around for years.

And suddenly the werewolf has his arms around him in a rough hug, too tight and he can feel the warm wet of tears on his face, but it's right, in this moment.

"You shouldn't have _done_ that," Remus says again, breath hot against Sirius's neck. "Why do you always have to be so damn reckless?"

Sirius smiles lightly as he cups the back of the tawny head, fingers moving to smooth the baby-fine hairs at the base of his neck.

He knows that Remus is grateful, more so that he will ever admit to them. He'll continue to call them silly and foolish, scold them for doing something so dangerous and so unquestionably illegal. The next few weeks will be filled with harsh reprimands and disapproving looks.

But Sirius can feel his relief.

Can feel it in the fingers digging into his skin, the hitching breaths and sagging shoulders and the cool tingle of magic in the air.

So he just says, "I'm sorry," knowing that Remus will take it for what it is.

You're welcome.


	5. Because We've Always Been Each Other's

Remus can't say "I love you," to Tonks.

He's tried. He's tried so many times, he's lost count.

It was never this difficult with him.

With him, the words had rolled off his tongue, as simple and straightforward as a "Hello."

When he'd said them back, it was warm. It was a golden smile and a soft embrace. It was like coming home.

It always hit Remus as he looked into her expectant face, pink hair bright and eyes hopeful.

He was dead.

There would be no more simple "I love you's."

No more cedar-smoky scents or strong-armed hugs that gripped him tight, made him feel safe.

No more conversations late into the night as he ran a gentle hand over the head in his lap, cigarette smoke curling blue in the air around them as they used the dark to talk about things they couldn't say in the light.

Things they couldn't talk about with anyone else.

When he'd fallen into the veil, a piece of Remus had fallen, too.

And as he started at the spot between her eyes and said, "I love you, too," Remus knew two things for certain.

He would never love her.

He would never belong to anyone else.


	6. Because We've Always Mended Each Other

_Sorry this was a little later than usual! But this drabble is longer than usual, so I hope all is forgiven. This chapter is dedicated to __**TechNomaNcer28**__, for being such a faithful reviewer. Thanks, girl!_

* * *

He was lying on the rough wood floor of the Shack, folded over in a shape that made him appear boneless, his limbs still limber from their recent move back into their sockets.

His joints were stained purple from burst capillaries, the bright red of blood standing out against pale skin in harsh slashes and vicious bursts, some of it dripping onto the floor beneath him.

Breath came out in ragged pants, body shaking as Remus struggled to regain control.

"I don't want to do it anymore," came the quiet admission.

Sirius walked over to him, sinking to one knee as he gathered his broken friend into his arms, resting them against the nearest wall and pulling the boy until he was nearly in his lap. He ran a soothing hand over the matted hair as he drew out his wand to whisper diagnostic spells cloudy-blue in the air above Remus, mending broken skin and healing small breaks scattered throughout his bones.

Remus groaned lightly whenever Sirius had to shift him too far, and he ghosted apologies over the sweaty temple in the form of soft kisses and soothing platitudes.

"I can't," the hoarse voice cracked.

Sirius reached into the bag that he'd brought and dragged out a pair of loose trousers and a shirt, moving Remus into a sitting position as he slid the clean cotton over his battered form, inched the bottoms up his legs.

Sirius dressed him like he was a doll, pushing and pulling arms into sleeves and fingers through cuffs as Remus's head flopped against his chest, the warm breath tickling and reassuringly steady.

He brought out an old flannel, wetting it with a quick _Aguamenti_ before bringing it up to wipe the grime from Remus's face.

Salty tear tracks lined his face and crusted at the corners of his eyes; dirt and gore spread across the expanse of his forehead as Sirius pushed back the tawny fringe to reveal more of the boy's face.

He kissed the corner of his mouth when Remus hissed at the sting of the cloth, thumbs sliding over cheeks that were pinking from the cold.

Finally satisfied that Remus would be presentable when Madame Pomfrey came to collect him just after sunrise, Sirius pulled the boy into a more comfortable position in his arms, settling his head against his shoulder and tucking his hands around his waist.

Remus's chest moved against his, breaths swishing softly in and out as fingers played with the edge of his cloak.

He reveled in the quiet, in the peaceful thump of Remus's heart and the rhythm of the hand Sirius was dragging lazily up and down the bony spine, stopping to rub soothing circles into tight knots.

His hand traveled to the boy's face, fingers moving to explore a plane he already knew so well, ghosting over smooth cheekbones and a rough jawline, running down a sloping nose and across baby-soft eyelids with thick lashes.

"You've got to," Sirius said as he ran gentle fingers over a split bottom lip, swollen and bruised.

The tawny head leaned in to the touch, nuzzling his face against the warm palm. Lean, bloodstained fingers moved to encircle the strong wrist, holding Sirius in place. Tired eyes fluttered closed as Remus sank against him, post-transformation the only time he would let someone help him, hold his burden for a moment and comfort him when he needed it the most and would ask for it least.

The sunrise was filtering its way through the gritty windows of the Shack, the shattered glass scattering the rays in haphazard patterns around the room, pinks and purples and oranges that seemed at odds with the dark space.

Sirius resumed petting the matted head in front of him, sliding his hand down to the nape of a pale neck that lost some of its tension at his softly-probing fingers.

They both knew it would be over soon, that Pomfrey would come to take Remus to the hospital wing, where Sirius would be just another member of the Marauders, just another one of the boys.

Not the one who knew Remus better than he knew himself.

Not the one who knew just how much Remus feared for his future, for the persecution he would face as a werewolf.

Not the one who could make him sigh in pleasure or laugh until his sides split.

Not the one who had seen him like this, raw and exposed.

Not the one who loved him.

They heard the sharp click of Madame Pomfrey's shoes in the cobble-stoned hallway, moving to break a moment she didn't even know was happening.

Sirius released Remus gently, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear as he lowered the boy back down to the cold floor, picking up the Invisibility Cloak as he draped a warm quilt around Remus's shoulders.

Stopping to look at him for one last moment, Sirius whispered a parting plea as he snuck from the room.

"You've got to, because the only hope for me is you."


	7. Because We've Always Known Each Other

_I can't believe this is the seventh week! Time flies when you're writing lovely, lovely Wolfstar, I suppose. Enjoy, dear readers!_

* * *

The darkness is an inky indigo-blackness that smells like night, crisp and smoke and somehow a little metallic. It's the end of March so the air is clean and fresh but it's cold; the grass underneath him is dewy and wetting the thin t-shirt he's wearing.

He has his arms folded behind his head, cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he stares up at the stars.

There's a soft glow of torchlight floating over from Hogwarts, but it's not enough to dampen the sharp haze of the stars above him.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth until the tickle at the back of his throat becomes too much and he lets it escape, curling rings above his head. It drifts slowly in the still night, lazily swirling in the air before him and Remus goes cross-eyed trying to follow its twisty path.

Footsteps approach him from behind, squelching on the grass and sending vibrations through the ground towards Remus's head.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't turn around, just folds his arms back under his head and hopes to Merlin that he's not about to set the grass on fire.

He knows it's Sirius, who probably noticed that he wasn't in his bed on his way back from his routine midnight piss.

And he knows.

Knows Sirius is going to look at him and know that it's one of _those_ nights.

Knows that Sirius is going to know why it's one of those nights.

So he doesn't move when Sirius lays down beside him, fumbling and tucking his long limbs until he's comfortable, just passes the smoke over and keeps his eyes trained on the stars flickering at him from light years away.

"New moon," is all Sirius says as he passes the cigarette back, adding his own contribution to the smog gathering in front of them.

"Yeah."

His fingers are cold and a little clammy as they tangle with Remus's, dragging a hand from behind his head to lie between them.

Because he knows.


	8. Because We've Always Been Halves

_Surprise! Because I had some time off. Because I have to go to the dentist early tomorrow morning, and I'm trying to make myself feel better. No worries, there will still be the regular update on Saturday. Enjoy, dear readers._

_With love,  
WithRhyme_

* * *

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that he hadn't seen him in years.

It didn't matter that his clothes were rags or his feet were bare.

It didn't matter that his hair was matted and dirty and Remus was pretty sure there were things crawling in it.

It didn't matter that he obviously hadn't showered or shaved or brushed his teeth in days, weeks, months.

Nothing mattered, as he drew his attention away from the children huddled in the corner of the room to fix his eyes on Sirius.

Nothing mattered, as Remus took in a shuddering breath and wrapped his arms around him, held him, slotted his fingers in the spaces between his ribs and shoved his head into the crook of his neck.

Nothing mattered as Sirius placed his arms around his shoulders, the solid clap of his hands a reassuring weight against Remus's back.

Remus pressed his lips to his neck, never mind the dirt and the grime, a whispered _I missed you_ falling from his lips. He doesn't know if Sirius heard him, but he feels a warm breath against his hair followed by a soft _Fuck, Moony_ that he doesn't think he imagined.

Everything mattered as he let Sirius go, their eyes meeting in an indefinable moment. That gray which had been so sharp, so vital, was softened by age and Azkaban but still managed to stick Remus to the spot, and the urge to cry hit Remus sudden and hard, a concrete blow to the chest.

He hadn't cried since that night. But looking into those eyes something shifted, and something warm and comfortingly heavy that he hadn't felt for years fitted itself into his chest right against his heart. Remus suddenly found it very hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to stay standing and not grab Sirius and see if his lips still moved against his the way he remembered. He could feel his heart beating violently, the blood rushing through him a dizzying speed, making his head cloudy and his fingers tingle. White-knuckled fingers gripped his wand, and the heat of sparks singed his trouser leg.

Sirius was looking at him concernedly, ignoring Hermione's increasingly alarmed accusations as he grabbed a hold of Remus's arm.

Remus could only smile languidly as the touch sent a golden-warmth shooting through him, filling in all of the spaces of him with a realness he hadn't known he'd been missing.

Becoming whole again was a very agreeable thing, indeed.


	9. Because We've Always Been Magic

It was mouths moving together, dry lips becoming spit-slick as warm tongues played together, exploring, learning.

It was hands cradling faces, whisper soft, thumbs moving over cheekbones and traveling across scars, tracing eyelids and fluttering lashes.

It was the firm press of fingers into hips, nails digging into shoulders as they held each other, tighter, harder, more.

It was the sheer euphoria, racing heartbeat and rushing blood, the pulse point that Sirius loved to lick jumping hot and quick under his lips.

It was tangled legs and sweaty palms and soft noises thrown unbidden into being.

It was afterwards, the comforting weight of Sirius's head on his chest, gentle smiles and quiet thoughts, and the knowledge that they were _not_ cuddling.

It was magic.


	10. Because We've Always Loved Rain

Today was the kind of day that Remus Lupin loved best.

He was lying under his favorite tree by the lake, a giant oak with a wide trunk and large, sweeping branches that let filtered light come dancing down to play across his face.

The clouds were building up thick and tall in the sky, a deep bruise-blue that promised rain.

It smelled like rain, and tasted like rain, fresh and clean and a little like dirt as he breathed it in and it settled on his tongue.

Suddenly Sirius came running and tumbling onto him, knocking the air out of his lungs and landing with legs around Remus's waist.

And the smell of rain faded to nothing as he breathed Sirius in, let their lips meet and tongues slide and the taste of Sirius settled there.

And now the rain was falling and wetting them through, dripping through the leaves and running in tracks from Sirius's hair and the sweet taste of Sirius was met with the sweet taste of rain.

Today was the kind of kisses that Remus Lupin loved best.


	11. Because We've Always Been Comforting

They're laying side-by-side on the small four poster bed, their grown-man legs and grown-man bodies too big to fit comfortably, but they make it work.

Remus doesn't think he would ever really complain about being draped over Sirius, but the warmth they're sharing is becoming suffocating, sweltering beneath the heavy red curtains.

He doesn't dare let go. Doesn't dare let go of this boy, this man, this beautiful dark-haired man who's pressed up against his chest, head settled beneath Remus's chin with shoulders shaking lightly.

Remus holds in his hands the pieces of one of the most commanding boys in the school, and he desperately wants to put him back together.

So he does, with tender kisses to his forehead, cheeks, nose, neck.

With gentle hands that slide under a shirt for the warmth of skin-against-skin, fingertips dancing across a broad back with lean muscles.

With soft words whispered hot against tear-stained cheeks and delicate ears, "You deserve better", "We can face this together", "I love you."

With silence and the beat of his heart, because he knows it calms Sirius to hear it.

And when Sirius raises his head, tear-glazed, all those shattered pieces of him that were thrown to the ground when his parents kicked him out were together again. Not very well, perhaps, the edges were rough and the bindings weak, he would scar, but they were there.

Sirius would be stronger for it.

And Remus would be there, ready to repair any damage incurred as they rode through this life together.


	12. Because We've Always Seen

_This is one of my personal favorites. Enjoy._

* * *

It's late, and somewhere in the castle Sirius hears the deep toll of a clock counting out the hours. All he knows is that it's dark, and cold, and the moonlight is flowing strong and bright through the window of his dormitory. It's reflecting off of the mirror he's holding in his hand, and for a moment he plays with the light, scattering it around the room before Remus's face appears in the glass.

"Sirius?" he whispers.

"Here," he responds, and forces his eyes into blankness and his mouth into a small smile as he takes in Remus's injuries. He hasn't found anything yet that stops the twisting of his stomach or the irregular beat of his heart, and it hurts, every time. He'd seen some of the cuts and bruises this morning, after the change, but Pomfrey had been early and they had had to escape before their usual inspection to avoid being caught.

He knew that everything looked worse in the dark, but the deep purple and slashing red that had taken over Remus's face were painful reminders of what he had just been through.

"You're not supposed to smoke," Remus scolds him, voice rough.

Sirius just shrugs, flicking some of the drooping ash out the window, because he knows he isn't.

"You're supposed to be resting," he counters.

Remus shuffles away from the mirror a little bit, tucking his head down. "You said to call you if I needed anything."

He had, the very first night he'd given Remus one of his two-way mirrors. Ever since then, Sirius has waited with the mirror in his hand every night after the full moon. Sometimes Remus uses the mirror, sometimes not. He always waits.

Sirius takes another drag from his cigarette, wondering what Remus could possibly need this time of night. "And?"

"I need you."

Sirius feels his heart stutter, a warm blush moving across his cheeks. He takes a moment to respond. "What's wrong?"

Remus shakes his head, a barely discernible motion in the dimness of the Hospital Wing. "I just need you."

Something warm and messy and familiar twists in his chest, a feeling Sirius has come to call _loving Remus Lupin_.

He stares back into dark amber eyes, sees the unspoken vulnerability. "I'll be there."

In a moment he is, body tucked away beneath James's invisibility cloak and standing in front of the usual bed, with Remus looking at him in a way that's making it difficult for him to breathe.

"I had a nightmare," Remus whispers, and he sounds lost. "I just needed to know-"

Sirius puts his hands in Remus's hair, has to touch him, has to let him know that whatever demons had entered his head, he was there, and he was real, and he was not letting Remus go.

Remus leans into the touch, hands moving to twist into the material of Sirius's nightshirt as Sirius runs gentle fingers through soft strands, carding his fingers through tawny hair.

"You need to sleep," he says, even as Remus begins to shake his head. Sirius pushes him to lie flat on the bed, ignoring the soft noise of protest. "I'll stay with you."

Remus pauses, looking at him with large eyes. Finally, he nods. "Okay."

Sirius moves onto the bed and Remus shuffles over, and it's a few moments of blanket-adjusting and body-arranging before they're finally both comfortable, Sirius on his back with Remus's head on his shoulder, heavy and warm.

"Alright?" he asks, breath moving over Remus's hair.

"Alright," Remus sighs.

"Sleep," he says, fingers moving to twine in soft hair.

Remus moves his arm to tighten around Sirius's torso, followed by a quiet, "Thank you."

And as he presses a kiss to that head, Sirius thinks that he has never felt more content than in this moment.


	13. Because We've Always Been Amazing

_Hello! I'm going to be without internet service this weekend, so here is your weekly update early! This chapter is for __**GOThrones**__, who requested a first kiss moment. I haven't had a chance to respond to everyone's lovely reviews, but rest assured that I will sit down and answer them all as soon as I get a chance (and good internet)! I put this up in kind of a rush, so feel free to point out any mistakes and I will come back to edit them later. Enjoy._

* * *

It's a peck on the cheek at first, just a quick press of dry lips that has him blushing and glaring at the three boys who are now laughing at him. They've always messed around like this, puckered lips to tease each other with silly kissing sounds, but Remus never knew he could pink all the way up to his ears until that moment when Sirius's lips had touched his skin and his heart decided to vacate its position in his chest and move to his stomach.

It's a smoothing of lips lingering on his forehead as he lies on the ground of the Shrieking Shack, shaking, blood running in rivulets down his back and making Sirius's hand there slippery-red.

It's a tight hug with faces smashed into necks and no words besides Sirius's broken, "I'm sorry, Remus. I am so, so sorry," over and over again as his lips press at the juncture of Remus's shoulder, hot and open-mouthed.

It's late at night on the Astronomy tower, the inky sky above dotted with a million stars and Remus is cold despite the smoke of the cigarette they're sharing burning in his lungs and the hand Sirius has laid casually on his knee.

"It could ruin everything, couldn't it?"

Remus nods. "Yeah."

"I mean, really mess everything up. We're two poorly sorted individuals, Remus."

"Indeed."

Sirius turns to look at him, his normally pale grey eyes dark around the edges, the moon casting shadows on his face. He stubs the cigarette out, and his hand smells faintly of nicotine as he brings it to cup Remus's face. Remus finds himself leaning into the touch, to the warmth that Sirius always seems to carry around with him.

Sirius's fingers slip down to trace his mouth, thumb moving back and forth over his bottom lip. Remus lets out a stuttered breath, his heart making its by now accustomed journey to his stomach, where it stays beating wildly with the butterflies.

"But I think we could be amazing." Sirius's voice is soft and his breath warm and smoky as it flows over Remus.

Remus stares back at Sirius, eyes dark and intent, and whispers, "So let's be amazing."

Sirius's smile is sweet with a side of wicked, and Remus feels his own mouth tilt up as Sirius brings their heads together, noses mashing as heads slant and learn how to fit together.

The first press of lips is light, chaste, closed mouths moving against each other, testing. They pull back, laugh, and dive in again, this time with mouths open and tongues exploring, mapping. They kiss until oxygen becomes a necessity, resting foreheads together as the sound of their panting fills the air around them.

Sirius's hand is tangled in Remus's hair, and as he lets his lips brush over Remus's once more, he breathes, "Amazing."


	14. Because We've Always Been Dramatic

Sirius Black is perhaps the biggest drama queen of all time.

Remus looks at the arm outstretched to him, shaking his head as he tries to hide a smile behind his hair.

"It hurts," Sirius whines at him.

Remus purses his lips, grabbing ahold of the arm to get a better look. A small scrape, red and ragged, mars the smooth tan skin.

"Sirius Black," he says reproachfully, "you are perhaps the biggest drama queen of all time."

Sirius only huffs at him. "This is a painful wound. Absolutely horrifying to look at. I would have expected more sympathy from you."

"You want me to make it better?" Remus asks sarcastically.

A sweeping hand and an impatient tone. "If you would."

Rolling his eyes, Remus leans down, bringing the arm to meet him as he presses a soft kiss to the mark.

When he looks back up, raising an eyebrow, Sirius is staring back with a smile. "See now, somehow it's all better."

Remus grins. "They say my lips are a thing of miracles."

"Oh? And who might you have heard that from?"

Remus smirks at him. "I happen to have a very reputable source."

Releasing his arm, Sirius moves towards him to wrap warm hands around his waist. "You should describe this source. I might know him."

Pausing as if to think, Remus plays with the hem of Sirius's shirt. "Well, he's tall, dark, and handsome, an incredible git and a bit of a cry baby."

Sirius puts a dramatic hand to his chest. "A cry baby? You wound me, Moony."

Laughing, Remus puts his hand on the back of Sirius's neck, drawing him in. "I'll have to fix that too, now won't I?"

"I would like that very much," Sirius breaths, just as their lips meet.


	15. Because We've Always Been Hopeful

_Oh my goodness, I am SO sorry for the massive delay in posting this week. I feel bad that I wasn't able to put the story up on Saturday, and I feel _terrible_ that I wasn't able to put it up yesterday as I promised. Nevertheless, here is your drabble for the (previous) week, and I thank you for your patience._

* * *

We're sitting on the couch, Remus at the back with me stretched out along his side, Remus's arm hanging heavy on my waist and our legs tangled together.

It's dark inside the apartment, the only light an alien glow coming from the TV that Remus forced us to get, the volume low and mumbling as we both pretend to watch.

There are other whispers, more distant mumbles echoing in the back of our minds, getting louder as the war rages on.

_Trust_, always with a question mark.

_Disloyal_, with a spike of dread.

_Traitor_, a sinking feeling and a lead weight of guilt.

We hate that after Order meetings we can't look each other in the eye, just hold hands tight between us and make believe there isn't a small part of us that doesn't believe the other. Suspect the other.

Dinners are quiet and stilted; kisses are too desperate, too needy and pleading and wanting.

We sit on the sofa, arms wrapped around each other, trapped in the dark and the silence and the harsh echo of our thoughts.

All we can do is hang on tight, and hope.


	16. Because We've Always Been Gigglers

_Blergh. Don't really know how I feel about this one, may come back and edit it later. Omg, with the writer's block. If anyone has any ideas for these two, please let me know. I need them desperately._

* * *

A giggle to his left.

Another, snorted into an arm.

Then another.

"Will you two shut up?" James hisses, throwing an elbow.

Quiet for a time, then the giggles intensify.

James glares at the pair, rolling his eyes as he notices them using their two-way message parchment. "Quit writing each other dirty notes and pay attention. McGonagall's looking over here and I can't afford to get another detention."

That's enough to keep them quiet for about five minutes before the snickering starts again.

"Oh, for Merlin's—are you fucking serious?" James lashes out.

Remus breaks out into open laughter at that while Sirius winks at him. "Only every night."

James mimes retching, and as McGonagall makes her way over he resigns himself to the idea that he'll be spending the evening with these two wankers instead of Lily.


	17. Because We've Always Been Sure

_So I feel like I had to do something to make up for the past two weeks, because they were entirely too late or too ansgty or too sad or too short. So here is your weekend dose of Wolfstar love, fluffy and sappy and long, just how we like it._

The quiet of the Gryffindor common room is broken only by the crackling white noise of the dying fire in front of them, and the lull that has fallen over the room threatens to drag Remus under the closer it gets to midnight.

He and Sirius are sitting side by side on the floor against one of the couches, legs stretched out in front of them with shoulders touching. Sirius will flick him in the ear with his quill every couple of minutes, and Remus only smiles because he knows that this is how Sirius Black does affection.

The Potions essay that they're working on is almost unbearably long, four feet on the merits of the sassafras root. Sirius is working surprisingly diligently, and Remus's stomach does an odd little flip at the thought that it's probably due to the upcoming Hogsmeade visit.

He feels a nudge at his shoulder, different from the affectionate little jabs he's been getting all night. Remus turns to the side with a "Hmm?" and a questioning look.

Sirius is chewing on the edge of his quill, brows knitted in concentration. "I need another reason for using sassafras in blood-letting potions."

Remus quirks a brow. "Have you even opened the textbook? The benefits of using it in blood-letting potions are in the first paragraph. You know, if you'd only—" He cuts off when Sirius gives him puppy dog eyes. Damn, he's good at that.

So he only sighs and says with teasing exasperation, "Separates the magical components of the blood."

Sirius smiles, knocking shoulders with him, saying, "Merlin, I love you Moony," as he writes it down on his parchment.

Remus freezes.

_Everything_ freezes, except for the frantic butterflies in his stomach trying to escape and the rapid whirring of his mind as he tries to process what Sirius just said.

It's not as though it's something he hasn't heard from Sirius before, they used to say it all the time when they were just friends, when they were just joking around.

But it's different now, because you can't just _say_ things like that anymore.

So he just stares at Sirius, heat beating so fast he swears he can see it pumping out of his chest and mind a terrible, hot nervous wreck. Sirius had already gone back to his Potions essay, but looks up with an exasperated, "_What?_" when Remus continues to stare.

Remus swallows past the lump in his throat. "Did you mean it?"

He has to ask, and he hates himself for it.

He feels like an idiot.

He feels like a fourteen year old Hufflepuff.

Sirius only gives him a puzzled look. "Did I mean what?"

Remus takes his hand from where it'd been resting on Sirius's leg and pushes his hair out of his eyes, taking entirely long to arrange it before he blurts, "I just—when, before, when I said the thing about the sassafras, and then after. You said it. And I was wondering if you—you know—did. Or not."

When Sirius looks at him as if he's sprouted purple tentacles, he takes a deep breath and tries again. "You said you loved me." He shrugs, affecting a fake nonchalance he knows Sirius will see straight through. "I just wondered if you meant it. If you loved me, more than 'I love pizza' and the way you love James."

Sirius stares at him with wide eyes for a moment before he moves quickly, and Remus closes his eyes expecting either to be shaken or tackled or snogged into oblivion.

What he doesn't expect is the one hand in his hair and the other cupping his face, ghosting across his cheekbones and prompting his eyes to open.

This is something he hasn't gotten used to yet; a gentle Sirius who listens and (as much as Sirius would deny it), cuddles, a Sirius who holds him at night when he has dreams of the full moon, who's there in the morning after his transformations wiping the blood off of his face and kissing him, morning-wolf breath and all.

He knows that he loves this Sirius.

His eyes meet warm, steely grey, and Remus smiles, because those eyes say everything. They say _Yes_.

"Hey," Sirius says softly, warm breath fanning across his face. "I love you, Remus Lupin. Really and truly. Certainly more than pizza and, for Merlin's sake, a whole lot differently than James."

Remus nods, bringing one of Sirius's hands down to tangle their fingers together as he rests their foreheads together.

"Ok," he says.

They kiss, and Remus wonders how he could have even questioned whether Sirius loved him or not. When their lips move together it feels warm and familiar and _home_, the surest home Remus has ever known.

Sirius Black loves Remus Lupin.

Remus Lupin loves Sirius Black.

Simple.

Sure.

Love.


	18. Because We've Always Been Friends

_Hello again, internet readers! Please ignore the fact that everyone is only vaguely in alphabetical order. Let's just stay in happy fanfiction fantasy land, shall we?_

* * *

It's his first day at Hogwarts, and Sirius Black is full of nervous energy as he stands waiting to be sorted. This is perhaps one of the only times in his life that he's been glad his name is Black; it means he'll be sorted right away. He turns around while the Headmaster is speaking and the hat is doing its funny little song, and he looks at the long line of fidgety first years standing behind him.

There's a boy with round black glasses who's poking an annoyed-looking red headed girl, and Sirius laughs when she finally turns around to tell him off. The boy doesn't seem to be embarrassed or apologetic, though, instead he smirks at her and says something that makes her huff and turn back around. This only seems to make the boy prouder, and he puffs out his chest a little bit as he resumes poking the girl.

Sirius decides that he wants to be friends with this boy.

Standing a little ways in front of this boy is another, with a round face and a round body who seems to be, literally, shaking in his boots. Despite his large face the blond boy's features seem to be rather rat-like, and he has a runny nose which he is constantly wiping on the sleeve of his sweater.

Sirius decides that really, he would rather not be friends with this boy if he can help it.

Shifting his eyes up and down the line and wondering when on earth the hat was going to make a decision on this Adams boy, Sirius sees a boy he hadn't noticed before. Small for his age with sandy-brown hair and large amber eyes, he appears to be hiding himself behind the large, rather gorilla-like boy in front of him. He's smart, though, Sirius can tell, the way his eyes scan the room, taking everything in. And nice, he picks up the book bag of the girl standing in front of him and dismisses her blushing and fluttering with one disarming smile and a wave of the hand. But there's something else, something in the way he carries himself and a look in his eyes that has Sirius staring at him for far longer than is socially acceptable.

The boy catches his eye, and, with slightly pink cheeks, smiles, throwing up a small wave of the hand.

Sirius waves back and decides in that moment that he _needs_ to be friends with this boy, and hopes (just a little), that his boy will need to be friends with him just as much.


	19. Because We've Always Had Darkness

Remus can feel it bubbling up within him, black and sticky and finding its way onto and into every part of him.

It happens every moon, but never as strong as this, as commanding over his emotions.

The anger. The darkness. The wolf inside of him readying itself to come out, to tear flesh and lick blood and kill, to transform others to this grotesque way of life.

He's scared. He's scared because he knows that he's going to tear himself apart this month, his own body a sorry replacement for what the wolf really wants.

He watches his friends laughing around the fire from his place by the windowsill. When he came in he'd waved them off with a growl and a glare, and they had given him concerned looks but left him to himself. Now looking at their happiness, the easy way they went through life, he sees red, feels the tension in his body coil tight as his nails dig into the skin of his palms. Remus can feel his lip curl into a snarl at the unfairness of it all, simultaneously feeling disgusted with himself for starting the same argument he has in his mind every month.

Remus is so busy seething that he doesn't quite process Sirius bounding across the room until he's in the window seat with him, sprawled out on the cushion with his legs tucked up.

He taps Remus's leg inquiringly. "Okay?"

"No," Remus says shortly.

Sirius nods, drumming his fingers on his stomach. "Figured as much."

Remus throws him a look, at which Sirius only rolls his eyes. "Alright, I've had enough of your moping. Give me your hand."

Remus looks at him for a moment. He loves having people play with his hands. He's also not really interested in being cheered up right now. Sirius raises an eyebrow. "Come on, now," he says, gesturing for Remus to give him his hand.

One more pause, mostly for show, and Remus does, stretching his hand across the space between them to meet Sirius's calloused fingers.

As soon as they touch he has to fight the urge to sigh, feels the darkness liquefy, seep out of him with every soft pass of Sirius's fingers over the back of his hand, between his knuckles, over the delicate veins in his wrist.

Remus loses the battle and lets out a deep breath that hitches at the end, wondering how Sirius knows just what to give him when he doesn't even know himself.

"Talk to me," Sirius says quietly.

"Okay," Remus says, and he does.

And when he's all talked out, Sirius's fingers still moving lazily against his own, Remus thinks that he wouldn't mind always having Sirius around to quiet his demons.


End file.
